Amor Fati
by ebitto
Summary: She is bitten, and he is going to fix her.
1. Fortuna Caeca Est

A/N: I got the idea for this literally out of the blue as I woke up this morning.  
>I don't really know where this is going (I'm lying), but I hope you'll come along for the ride! I'll leave it up to you to go google what <em>Amor Fati<em> means.  
>Hint: it's Latin. If you're familiar with my other stories, you know that I place great significance on titles and chapter names, sobe sure to keep an eye out!<br>Also, I'd like to point out that the Titans are slightly older in this fic, all of them in their very early twenties.

Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own the Teen Titans. Check back later.

Without any further ado, here is the first chapter of _Amor Fati._

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 1: Fortuna Caeca Est<strong>

Fate is Blind

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><p>A soft <em>plink<em> brings Raven's attention to the sink, where a tooth rests precariously at the edge of the drain. It takes her a moment to realize that it is _her _tooth, and she blinks at it, lowering her toothbrush.

Sudden pain has her bent over the sink, gripping its porcelain sides so hard her knuckles rival their whiteness. Raven groans, and a line of crimson dribbles down her chin and pools in the sink, pushing the teetering tooth over the edge and into the drain. The pain is enough to make her nauseous, and abstractly she wonders if she shouldn't be bent over the toilet instead. Her jaw feels like it is on fire.

With some difficulty, she raises her head to the mirror to look inside her mouth, but a knock at the door interrupts her.

"Raven, please, I beg you—it's been, like, an _hour_ already."

Why Beast Boy always needs to use the facilities at the same time as she escapes her, but she is unable to curse him around the pain, so she settles for a noncommittal grunt instead. And it has _not_ been an hour. Twenty minutes, tops.

The pain abates slowly, and Raven composes herself. Briskly she rinses out her toothbrush and the sink before the blood can stain, and, hood raised, she wordlessly brushes past a nearly leaking Beast Boy and disappears into her rooms.

This is the fourth tooth Raven has lost this week, and she is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The teeth, of course, grow back, however incredibly painful, and decidedly more predator-looking than before. She's exhausted her books on the subject of half-demoness tooth-loss-and-sudden-painful-regrowth but a voice in the back of her mind whispers that the answer has been staring her in the face the entire time.

Carefully, Raven removes her cloak. Her hands falter at the neckline of her leotard, but she squeezes her eyes shut and deftly unzips and removes the elastic fabric.

She is almost too afraid to look but she already knows what she will see as she opens her eyes. The wound has not healed, or even scarred over, for that matter. It is still as red and angry as the day she got it—four long lacerations reach from her collarbone, under her bra and across her right arm. Blood has seeped into the fabric of the bra once again, and she grimaces as she removes it.

It has been three days since it happened, and for each of those three days Raven had refused to entertain the possibility that she could be susceptible to a werewolf's bite—or scratch for that matter—given her demonic ancestry and general imperviousness to human ails. After the second tooth had found its way into the sink, however, and her sudden craving for carpaccio had intensified, Raven began to have doubts.

It was irresponsible of her to keep it to herself, she knew, not to mention dangerous. But could she not be afforded just a tiny bit of normalcy after she averted the apocalypse? Could she be blamed for simply wanting everything to _just be okay_, even if only for a little while?

Little wet spots appear on the white fabric of the bra she holds in her hands and Raven is surprised to find tears are rolling steadily down her cheeks. Her curtains rip themselves to tatters as she angrily wipes them away. As far as she knows, there is no cure for lycanthropy. Would she be kicked off of the team? She most definitely would not be able to stay, not whilst she was capable of sprouting claws and fangs and generally being a fatal liability that the team could not manage. What would her friends say if they found out?

What would Robin say?

She and Robin had just moved past the awkward, rocky partnership of their youth, and now hung in that strange void between best friends and symbiosis, courtesy of the 'bond' incident, and, of course, the _apocalypse_. Afterwards, Raven had found that neither could make weighty decisions without consulting the other, and she often caught herself responding to something he'd asked her mentally, or vice versa.

Of course a wrench the size of Jump City had been thrown into their relationship after the events in Tokyo[1] a few years ago, leaving her uncertain of where they stood. Not that she wasn't happy for him—of _course_ she was—but Raven couldn't help but feel slightly bereft whenever he elected to spend 'quality time' with Starfire instead of joining her for their weekly tea and quiet meditation ritual. She tried not to feel bothered when she found them snogging in a darkened hallway, as awkward and _frankly inappropriate_ as that was, and she—civilly, if not quite politely—declined to discuss his kissing prowess with Starfire whenever she tried to gush about it.

Still, the thought of her leader-slash-not-quite-best-friend finding out and condemning her was terrifying to Raven, and part of the reason she waited so long to accept the truth. The other reason, though she did not want to admit it to herself, was the terrible feeling she got in her gut when she imagined the disgust in everyone's eyes if they saw her become a monster, _again_. It was silly, given that she was literally _spawn of Satan _and they accepted her, but how many times could she mess up before she fell out of their good graces for good?

A _swish_ from behind her causes her to spin around. Robin stands motionless in her doorway, and she can tell by the slight widening of his mask that he is in shock. Belatedly Raven realizes her state of undress and moves to cover herself, but he is at her side in an instant, impatiently brushing her hands out of his way.

"What. Happened." His voice is icy, and Raven falls a half step back. He's removed his mask to see the wound better and she is sure that her skin beneath the wound boils as his blue eyes glare down at her mercilessly.

"It's nothing. Just a scratch."

"That is a. Vast. Understatement."

Raven moves to cover herself once more, flames rising in her cheeks as she tries to pull her leotard up over her torso. It's not as if he hasn't seen her in less before, or she, him—or the rest of the team for that matter—as clothing was usually the first to go during intense battles or in the medilab. But this feels different, somehow. Perhaps because he is standing so close to her, or perhaps because he is standing so close to her in her _darkened bedroom_ and they are about two steps away from her bed and his red-headed girlfriend could walk in at _any minute_. Or perhaps it is just her.

Robin stops her again as she moves to pull the leotard up and over her shoulder, grabbing her wrist so that just the claw marks are visible. His voice is softer as he says, "When did this happen?"

"Last week," she says glumly, "During the battle with the Haints.[2]"

Robin goes silent for a minute, gears turning. She works out the exact moment he figures it out, and his eyes flick back to hers in alarm. "You don't mean…"

Raven averts her eyes. "Yes. This is exactly what you think it is. I already know what you're going to say—" She stops speaking as his hands are suddenly on her face.

"You were crying." It is a statement, not a question. Briefly Raven wonders if she can pass off her reddened eyes as a side-effect of lycanthropy, but Robin shakes his head. "I could feel you hurting—that's why I came in here without knocking."

Raven doesn't know why she ever thought she could hide it from him—their bond was strong. Too strong, apparently. "There's…there's no cure, Robin." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "The full moon is in one month. I need to be far—far away from here by then."

"What are you talking about?" Robin looks at her incredulously. "Far away? You're not going anywhere—"

"Well, I certainly can't stay here, now can I, Robin?!" Raven forces her voice to be stern. "It's far too dangerous, and you know it."

Robin scoffs, his expression turning stubborn, the familiar glint of determination sparking in his eyes. "As if that's ever stopped any of us before, you especially."

"No, Robin." Raven pushes Robin's hands away and finishes zipping her leotard. "I will not allow this team to be endangered because of me—not again!"

"So that's what this is about." He follows her as she tries to put space between them. Her knees hit the edge of her bed and she is trapped between it and his broad chest. "This is the prophecy all over again. You're _afraid_—"

"_Of course I'm afraid!" _Raven all but yells, causing the already dim lights to flicker dangerously. "How many times do I have to hurt you or the rest of the team before you—"

"SHUT _UP_!" Robin roars, fed up, and Raven chokes, forgetting the entire tail end of her sentence. "When are you going to stop dancing around me and the team like we're fragile little children?!"

He is still standing too close and Raven turns her face to relieve some of the tension. His fingers find her chin and she finds herself unwillingly captive in his gaze once more. "We're not kids, anymore, Rae." Robin continues, softer this time. "Hell, we shouldn't even really be calling ourselves the 'Teen' Titans anymore either, but you get my point.[3] Whatever this is, we are going to fix it. I _promise_ you."

For the second time that day, Raven is fighting tears. "Promise me only that if we can't find a way to fix this before the next full moon that…that you'll do what needs to be done." She can feel the ferocity of his determination through their bond, and it is giving her the oddest feeling in her chest. She brushes it off as the wound smarting. "We have less than twenty-eight days."

Robin regards her seriously and, after a moment's pause, nods. He knows and she knows that he has no intentions of following through, but that is the best she is going to get from him.

"Then we'd better get started."

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><p>[1] - This fic takes place three or so years after Trouble in Tokyo, and assumes that Raven's apocalypse incident occurred before that.<p>

[2] - 'Haint' is a southern slang word for ghost or haunt. This will become relevant in later chapters.

[3] - As I said before, the Titans are slightly older in this fic. I'd place Raven and Robin around 21, Cyborg around 23 or so, Starfire at however many the hell old she is because I'm pretty sure Tameranians keep age differently–err–22, and Beast Boy being the youngest at 20.

That being said, please don't hesitate to point out any errors you find (I'm in great need of a beta)! Any feedback is appreciated. See you next moon phase!


	2. Sub Rosa

A/N: I know, I know it's been a while.  
>I promise that I haven't given up on this story.<br>Please accept this chapter as my apology!

P.S. - Yes, you guys, this _will_ be a love triangle. Just don't hate me for it afterwards.  
>P.P.S. - No, I won't tell you who ends up with who.<p>

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 2: Sub Rosa<strong>

Under the Rose

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><p>DAYS LEFT UNTIL FULL MOON: 24<p>

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><p>This time she wakes up on the roof.<p>

She doesn't know how she got there, and the last thing she remembers is Starfire asking her some inane thing like whether or not she wanted a "mustard dog" before everything goes blurry. Her mind is hazy, and her head aches, but there is the thought that she might have hurt someone, and Raven sits up quickly, panic settling over her like a second skin.

The starry sky twinkles unapologetically above her as she stumbles to her feet, trying to gauge how much time she's actually lost. It's impossible to tell, really, but by the height of the waxing crescent moon, Raven figures it's been about twelve hours, if it's even the same day.

"Have a nice nap?" comes a voice from her right. It belongs to Beast Boy, who is perched on the railing with one leg dangling precariously over the side. His head is cocked to the side as he watches her, expression equal parts curious and demanding.

"N-nap?" Raven repeats dumbly, still not quite yet all _there_.

"Yes," says Beast Boy, enunciating carefully. "N-A-P, _nap. _You know, that thing you do when you black out on the roof and I have to lie and make some excuse to hide you from Robin—who is our best friend, _and_ our leader, mind you—so he doesn't blow a gasket when he sees you lying _motionlessly on the floor—"_

Raven winces at his uncharacteristically biting sarcasm. _"_I passed out? When?"

Beast Boy hops off of the railing and walks over to her, tense concern evident in every line of his body. "What is going _on_ with you, Rae? I can tell that something's different—I can _smell_ it on your _skin_. Tell me, I want to help you—"

"No!" Raven yelps, backing up as he tries to reach out to her. Beast Boy's eyes narrow instantly, and Raven realizes that she will no longer be able to convince him that really, it's nothing.

"I'm sorry," she says, softer this time. "I'm just a little…tense. I haven't been meditating like I should be a-and…I'm just…tired."

Beast Boy looks like he wants to call bullshit, but in the end, he doesn't comment. He simply waits for the rest of her half-assed excuse, eyebrows raised, biceps bunching as he folds his arms across his chest.

"That's all. Thanks for the save with Robin. I, uh…owe you one," Raven finishes, and shoots him something that she hopes at least resembles a smile before turning to leave.

His voice, hard and cold, stops her in her tracks. "You know, I fucking _hate_ it when you do this. You're not being fair to me, and you know it."

Her hands ball into tight fists, but Raven does not turn around. She can feel his anger, boiling like poison just beneath his skin, roaring to be set free.

"You wouldn't understand," she says, but it is a lie, because if there was anyone who _could_ understand, it would be Beast Boy. "Trust me."

"You don't get to ask me to trust you without trusting me yourself, Raven. I won't lie for you if this happens again." His voice is scathing and Raven has to tell herself it doesn't sting when he storms past her and the door slams with a crack that echoes across the entire roof.

It is just as well, she reasons, because the farther away she drove her friends, the harder it would be to hurt them.

* * *

><p>"Ready to go?"<p>

Robin has dug up his old Red-X suit from the murky depths of his closet for the occasion, and the sight of white skull mask makes Raven shiver. She reddens awkwardly, as she remembers the short, forbidden fling with the suit's one-time owner, who has long since disappeared.

It is impossible for Raven to decipher the two now, and, if she wants, she can convince herself that it is Jason behind the mask. Her affection-starved body certainly seems okay with the idea, and Raven has to frantically remind herself that it is Robin beneath the black latex—her _leader_, and, not to mention, _unavailable_—before she makes a total ass of herself.

She stammers her reply, and fidgets with her disguise. Aside from the red-and-black striped tights and tattered pointed hat, the costume is not very different from her combat uniform, and Raven is worried that their targets will not be fooled by her hastily thrown together glamour.

"Trust me. They're idiots. This is gonna be cake," Robin assures her, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her close. He is fiddling with the teleportation device in his belt, and misses the strangled look Raven gives him as her heart leaps into her throat.

Robin does look down at her, finally, but mistakes her expression for something else. "We're going to find the bastard who marked you, Rae. Promise," he whispers, with all the confidence of a man who has made it his life's mission to never lose. White light explodes from his belt, and they are gone.

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><p>Five minutes later, they pop into a deserted alley around the corner from the club, and Raven quickly becomes aware of two things: first, that she had, in fact, accepted Starfire's mustard dog earlier that afternoon, and second, if they somehow managed to get out of this alive, she was <em>flying<em> home.

"Never _ever again_," she grinds out as she dry-heaves onto the crumbling brick wall. Thankfully, or regretfully, depending on how you feel about mustard dogs, Raven's lunch stays down, and she does not ruin her outfit.

Robin has the decency to look sheepish, and patiently waits until she has composed herself before he runs through the mission once again, as if Raven has somehow forgotten in the time it took them to get here.

"We'll be in and out if you let me do the talking, alright? Once we're inside, I'll ask around and see if any of the Haints have…what is it? What's wrong?"

"He's here." Raven can feel him—his insidious presence slides along her bones like snake oil, invading and unwanted.

Robin tenses beside her, and the weak streetlight makes his mask flash as his eyes search the empty alleyway for hidden assailants.

"Not here," Raven corrects herself, "Inside. He's...he's human."

Robin looks at her oddly. "Yeah, I know. Are you sure you're good to do this, Raven?"

Raven is not sure why the idea of the beast who ruined her being human is so jarring, especially considering that he would be bound to the same lunar cycle as she was. "If you ask me if I'm alright one more time, I will not hesitate to kick you in the mouth," she says instead, and turns on her heel to stalk towards the massive, intimidating-looking bouncer guarding the door to Club Avarice.

They have no trouble getting inside—the bouncer does not even blink before waving them into the dank, throbbing heart of the club. Bodies are smashed against each other, bumping and grinding, and the intensity of the cacophony of emotions is almost too suffocating for Raven to bear.

And underneath it all, is the burning presence of the wolf.

Robin is talking to a slimy-looking stoner who leers at Raven before gesturing to a VIP area the back of the club. As they pass, he whispers something vulgar in her ear, and despite the blaring music, it makes another wave of nausea roll over her. She has heard worse, yes, but it doesn't stop her from wanting to rip out his tongue.

Raven trails Robin closely, though it is more for the peace of mind the surety of his conscious gives her than the thought of losing him in the hazy crowd. Absently, she thinks she will always be able to sense her leader's mind, even in a city the size of Gotham. Something violently possessive rears up in her at that moment, and she has the strangest craving to sink her nails into the tender spot right above Robin's hipbone. She is close enough to do it, too, before her brain catches up with her body and her hand jerks back like she's been burned.

After what seems like an eternity, they reach the electrochromic glass doors of the VIP area. Two black-clad men, trying and failing to look inconspicuous, slouch nearby, and watch them closely.

Robin is at her ear. "Remember, let me do the talking."

She rolls her eyes, but lets him reason his way past the guards, and then, they are inside.

Raven is shocked and a little unnerved that the Wolf does not look like how she had envisioned him, slumped against the wide blood-red couch. He is thirty if a day, small-boned and frail-looking, with glasses and black hair cropped so short, she can see the pallid skin of his scalp shining under the black light. His chest is concave, and she can see the bones of his ribcage beneath his tatty button-down dress shirt.

His eyes, however, are just as she has imagined them, inhuman in every possible way. His irises are black pools of ink, and belatedly Raven realizes that they are actually his pupils, dilated to the size of quarters. She stands there immobile, as his endless eyes reach into her soul and yank at her heartstrings. He stands, still staring her down, and Raven knees buckle of their own accord. Some alien part of her is screaming for her to kneel, to submit to his dominance.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" A woman with translucent skin and electric eyes spits from the couch, and Raven is saved by the sound of her acidic voice. Something that looks disturbingly like an eyeball floats in the luminescent cocktail she's nursing. Raven recognizes her—Misty—and her nasty attitude from the battle, and wishes Robin had let her banish her when she'd had the chance. The rest of the Haints—Draco, a sinister-looking, coffee-skinned boy with the eyes and tongue of a snake and Cresse, a pale, ruby-eyed _dhampir_ barely older than thirteen and definitely not old enough to be there—are seated off to the side, silent and glowering.

"We're the one thing keeping you and your posse out of jail," came the strange, digitized voice from Robin's mask. His posture is aggressive, threatening, even, and there is a crackle of hostility in the room that sets Raven's teeth on edge. "And if you value your freedom, you'll answer a few of our questions."

Misty's demeanor changes suddenly and she giggles, seductively batting her eyelashes at him. "Is that so? How gracious of you. Allow me to express my gratitude," she says archly, and moves to toss her drink at them.

An X is slapped across her mouth before she can even raise her arm. Her glass crashes to the floor as two more wrap around her wrists and pin her to the wall behind the couch. Robin presses a button on his belt, and Misty's arms spasm and jerk with an electric current before she slumps, unconscious.

"Let's try this again," Robin says cheerfully. "We have some questions. You can either answer us willingly, or unwillingly—it's your choice."

"Cresse, Draco, wait outside," says the Wolf. His voice is resonant and ageless, and contrary to his weak appearance, it is suddenly painfully obvious that he is their leader, and nothing like the pathetic attack dog Raven had been hoping for.

Once they are gone, he turns to them and smiles genially. His teeth are yellow and predator-sharp, at odds with the conversational tone of his voice. "I don't think you're in the position to be _asking_ anything, _Robin."_

_"_I _beg to differ_," Raven snarls frostily, forgetting to stay silent. "You know why we're here, you bastard—"

"In fact, you came here with the idea that you could threaten me and my pack," the Wolf goes on as if Raven hasn't spoken, "And I'd just _give_ you what it is you want."

"Oh, you _will_ give us what we want," Robin says in the same relaxed tone. "Eventually. See, _I_ have your file—Marcus, is it? Is that what you're calling yourself now? How _is_ that father of yours doing? I'm sure he'd like to know where you've gotten off to."

The Wolf pales visibly, but his eyes remain hard. "I don't have it. What you're looking for," he growls. "There is no cure."

"Oh, really?" Robin turns to Raven and shrugs. "Well, I guess he's decided not to help us. Ready to send him home to dear ol' Dad?"

Raven grins and raises her arms. "With pleasure."

"No!" The Wolf _finally_ looks at her then, and she is shocked to see that his eyes are mostly human now. "Really! _I_ _don't have it_. Don't you think I would have cured myself by now if I did?!"

"_You're lying_!" cries Raven, flexing her fist, and a silver collar materializes around his neck. She takes pleasure in the way his skin sizzles and his eyes bulge as he chokes, because they are saying that he is telling the truth, and it is ripping her up inside.

Robin's stern hand on her shoulder and insistent presence in her mind is almost not enough to stop her from allowing the collar to take his head clean off. The levy breaks, and Raven lets her hand drop.

"Not necessarily," Robin says, keeping a wary eye on her. "I think you like the power, the strength it gives you. The willing _subordinates_"—he shoots a significant look at Misty—"the loyalty of a _pack_. I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but you _are_ a criminal."

"You think I _want_ this?" the Wolf asks incredulously. "Yeah, the wolf gives me power but I have no control! I _killed _my_ family. Do you know what that's like?"_

Raven feels Robin's mind go to a very dark place, so she steps forward to intervene, and her voice is like steel. "Yes, we do."

If the Wolf is surprised by her admission, he does not show it. "Then you know where that road leads. You can't punish a doomed man."

"I can punish who I damn well please," Raven snaps, but her heart is not in it. She has already given up, inside.

Robin's head is tilted, slightly. Raven knows what that look means, even though she cannot see his face, and she is loathe to tell him that he is wrong. That no, the Wolf is not hiding anything. Robin simply stares at her through his skull mask, and his mind says, _No offense, but your senses are compromised. _

Ice water shoots through her veins as Raven considers the possibility that, all this time, the Wolf may have been controlling her perception of him. Robin stalks forward, backing the Wolf into the wall. There is a flash of metal and then there is a gun in his hand, and he presses it into the Wolf's throat. Raven can only stand there, not willing to trust anything her eyes and ears are telling her.

"You _will_ tell us where the cure is, or I will send you back to Germany with so many silver bullets crammed up your ass—"

"Okay," Marcus gasps, but was that a snarl hidden within his breath? "_Fuck_, you're crazy. There…there is something. A-a kind of plant. But it's impossible to get a hold of—my gang and I, we've been trying for _years_—"

Robin growls, and releases the safety on the gun. "Not good enough."

"B-but even if you get it, you can't touch it! It'll poison you sooner than cure you—and that's not even the beginning." Marcus turns sorrowful eyes to Raven, and her neck is burning now with the ghost of the barrel of Robin's gun. She fights the compulsion to scream at Robin that he's hurting him, as irrational as that sounded, even to her.

"Look, I'll give you the list, alright? Just please, don't shoot me," Marcus whines, looking to all the world like a pitiful dog who's just been kicked. "You know it won't kill me."

"No, but it'll hurt like hell. Then I'll send you home, and you're gonna wish I _had_ killed you."

Robin stares him down as Marcus reaches into his pocket and reveals a crumpled sheet of paper, stiff and yellowed with age. He holds it out to Raven, waggling it impatiently when she makes no immediate move to take it. She motions to Robin, and he backs off.

As her fingers start to close around the paper, the Wolf's hand darts out and grabs her wrist. She gasps as she feels her skin sear within his palm, but the cruel, twisted thing looking out at her from the abyss of his eyes renders her immobile.

"Everything comes with a price. You've been warned," Marcus manages to say, before there is the whip crack of Robin's gun, and Raven's vision runs red with blood.

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><p>As always, leave your voices and opinions in that lovely little review box and I'll see you next moon phase!<p>

I promise that that will not be next year.


	3. Juncta Juvant

A/N: Told you I wouldn't wait until next year to update!  
>I do however, start the Spring Semester next Tuesday so updates might not come<br>very frequently. So please enjoy this slightly longer chapter!  
>It's dedicated to all <em>nine<em> of you who've reviewed the previous chapter!

You guys are amazing!

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 3: Juncta Juvant<strong>

Things United Aid Each Other

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><p>DAYS LEFT UNTIL FULL MOON: 20<p>

* * *

><p>He's watching her so intensely, Raven thinks her skin may catch on fire.<p>

She tries to focus all of her attention on lifting the spoon from her bowl of granola to her mouth as any normal, sane person would, but her movements are jerky and uncoordinated.

Her ears burn red with the force of Beast Boy's stare. "Take a picture, it might last longer—"

"Don't." His voice is sharp enough to cut steel, and Raven's eyes flick up to where he leans against the kitchen island, propping his elbows on the granite countertop. His hands are clasped and his lips are tight.

She knows that he is angry, and beyond ready for an explanation, but what can she possibly say? _I'm sorry that I practically attacked you last night, covered in the blood of the monster who marked me. I didn't know what I was doing. _

Raven doesn't like this new Beast Boy, all rumbly voice and sharp edges. He doesn't try to make light of the situation, and her weak excuses don't fly over his head like they did when they were teenagers. Perhaps he is too tall for that, now.

"Garfield," Raven says, hoping the rare use of his given name might make him relent a little. "I—"

"Unless you're about to explain _what the_ _fuck_ happened last night, don't you _dare_ say another word."

"But—"

"You _owe_ me, Raven. I deserve at least this much," Beast Boy's voice goes soft on the end, and the openly wounded look on his face makes Raven's fade a little. "You know, you promised that you wouldn't be like this anymore, not after…"

_After Trigon_, He wants to say. _Your father._ The fact that Beast Boy still hesitates to say his name reminds Raven of her purpose.

Raven surrenders her spoon to her bowl, appetite ruined. She tries to close her eyes to shield herself from his probing gaze and possibly dance around the subject some more, but seared into the backs of her eyelids is the red smile her claws left on Beast Boy's apple green skin last night, when she had stumbled into the tower half-drunk in the blood she'd been drenched in.

She had refused to teleport back with Robin, though he'd protested furiously. His bullet had nearly taken out a chunk of her hair, and for a second, Raven's entire universe had narrowed to the high-pitched ringing in her ears. Then the haze cleared, and Marcus had slumped to the floor, crater in his skull already starting to mend.

Raven thinks she might have looked frightening, because Robin had been on her in a second—apologizing profusely that he had seen Marcus grab her and hadn't thought, just pulled the trigger—cradling her face and asking over and over again if she was alright. She may have snapped at him, and whatever she said had reassured him enough to not forcibly restrain her from taking the skies home.

And she _had_ been fine, _really_. It was only after she'd made it halfway home and the heavy scent of Marcus's blood caught up with her shell-shocked senses that she'd started to lose it.

It's not as if bloodlust is unfamiliar to Raven. There are nights she goes to war with the vicious craving to see the streets run red with the blood of innocents, nights she has to spend locked in a spell-proofed chamber deep in a forgotten part of the basement hurling spells at the runed walls until she collapses, spent, but tamed.

But last night…Last night was different.

Raven's stomach churns when she remembers the look Beast Boy had given her when she'd lunged at him in the dimness of the corridor. He'd just been a warm body who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, whom Raven had not even recognized until they were already on the floor and she was straddling him, growling like a wild animal. His bare chest had been hot and slick with sweat—from terror or anticipation, she couldn't tell—and she'd sunk her nails into him, reveling in the shocked yelp that erupted from his mouth, and the way he'd twisted and squirmed beneath her.

"Raven? Are you in there?" He is directly across from her now, both forearms resting on the counter as he leans into her personal space. The crimson remnant of her nails on his skin peeks at her from beneath his crisp, white t-shirt, blindingly obvious against the deep, rich shade of his skin.

His scent pushes over her, and Raven is shocked to discover that she can now smell a little of herself on him, too. Absently, he rubs his chest, and she wonders, not for the first time, just how much hurt has she caused him over all these years.

"I can fix that, if you want," she mumbles, peeking at him over the rim of the mug she's brought to her lips, but his expression is maddeningly indecipherable.

"Pass."

"Look, I don't know what you want me to say—"

"The truth?"

"—that I haven't already told you. Why can't you just accept that there are some things that I can't share with you—"

"But you can share with Robin, is that it? Because you two have a 'bond'? We have a bond too, Raven. Maybe you've been in his mind, but I've been in _yours._ Robin will _never_ know what that's like."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Beast Boy lets out his breath in a whoosh that sounds a lot like a growl. "It means that I care about you. I always have, even back when you never came out of your room and looked at me like I was something you found on the bottom of your shoe. It means that I'll always have your back, no matter what, and it means that you need to tell me why you smell like—like a—"

"Like what?" Raven asks, heart thumping its way up her esophagus.

"I don't know!" Beast Boy exclaims, running a hand over his face and up into his hair with a frustrated snarl. "You smell like…like a _threat_. What does that mean, Raven? Why do you suddenly smell like something I feel like I should be protecting you from?"

"Good morning, friends!"

The doors to the main room fly open, and whatever idea building in Beast Boy's mind is abruptly killed. Raven finds that she has never been more grateful to hear Starfire's grating soprano voice at eight in the morning.

Beast Boy's glare, however, clearly says _this isn't over yet_, and Raven thinks he might continue interrogating her anyway before he pushes off of the counter and saunters over to the fridge. He offers to help Starfire with breakfast, with none of the animosity he'd been holding against Raven present in his voice.

Robin emerges five minutes later. The look on his face is too smug and the space of time between his and Starfire's arrival too contrived to be just a coincidence, and Raven tastes bile when she realizes that they must have slept together.

To her horror, she can actually smell it, and from the way his spine stiffens suddenly, Beast Boy is able to smell it too.

Raven tells herself that it is only because she had—however irrationally—expected him to have kept himself up all night as she had, poring over his copy of Marcus's nonsensical list, that she is offended.

Then she remembers the wicked thrill that had overwhelmed her in that cursed hallway. She remembers its sudden departure, and her blood runs cold when she realizes the implication.

_I need to talk to you_. _Now. _

She waits for Robin to acknowledge her voice in his mind with an almost imperceptible nod before abandoning her breakfast for the sweet, dark comfort of her room.

* * *

><p>Robin can't look at her after she tells him her theory. He stands a few paces from her bed—ears bright red—but whatever he's feeling can't possibly match Raven's mortification at explaining why he's just had the most mind-blowing sex of his entire life.<p>

Of course she _knows_ they've slept together. She's just never been the _sole reason_, or had the _pleasure_ of knowing what their love-making actually _smelled_ like. Raven wishes she can go back to blissful oblivion.

"I thought it was…different," Robin mutters, and Raven can see that she has made him uncomfortable. "But I thought you'd walled off that…part…of our bond. Shouldn't something like this—a…a _leak_—be impossible?"

"A situation like this wasn't what I had in mind when I modified the bond." Raven says delicately, but her face is buried in her hands and it comes out more muffled than anything. "I'm so sorry about…" she trails off, not sure how to classify just what _had_ happened, and not exactly willing either.

"Don't apologize," Robin says, and Raven peeks through her fingers to gauge his expression. He's wearing a faint self-satisfied smirk that makes her hate him just a little. "I can't say I didn't…enjoy it, even if it was a watered down form of whatever you were feeling."

"_This_ time it was watered down. What if next time it's not? What if I accidentally make you hurt someone?"

"That's not going to happen, Raven—"

"But _how do you know_ it won't? You can't—"

"No. Forget it. You are not going to destroy our bond because of the slight chance you might start sending kill signals through it. I still had full control over my body—I could have stopped if I wanted, I just didn't feel like it.

"If I can help you like this," he continues, moving closer to where she sits tensed on the edge of her bed, sheets now clenched in her fists, "By taking a part of your burden—let me."

Raven rolls her eyes and pretends that his words don't sting, but she can't quite take the bite out of her response. "You _would_ want to take this particular burden off my hands, wouldn't you?"

Robin looks confused at her sudden irritation, and a little hurt that she is implying that he'd use her for his own pleasure. "You know that's not what I mean."

Raven doesn't apologize, because she can't see it any other way. The temptation to let him share her suffering, any part of it, is eclipsed by the monstrous wave of _something_ that rears its head whenever she thinks of him naked, in bed, sliding against someone that is not her.

"I'm sorry, but there's no question—this _has_ to be done. And not just because of…what happened last night," She says, and her eyes slide off his face to count the individual threads in her deep violet duvet, "but just in case…in case we don't find this cure—in case the full moon comes and I'm not able to stop it—we need to be _separate_."

Robin recoils, and she can see that he'd never really expected her to go through with it. "What? Raven—"

"Look, you don't _have_ a say in this, Robin—"

"Like _hell_ I do—"

Raven is on her feet in an instant, _vibrating_ with anger. "You're such an _idiot_—don't you get it?!" she all but yells. "You could _die_. This could _kill _you—_I _could kill you, or someone else, or everyone!_"_

Not one to be outdone, Robin matches her, stance for stance. His nose is centimeters from her own, and his heated breath sheets across her face. "It will not get that far," he says, and the conviction in his voice is almost enough to convince Raven. Almost.

"I am not willing to take that chance," she whispers, hating that her voice is starting to break. "I refuse to drag you down with me. You're too important to m—to the team—to risk—"

He's shaking his head incredulously, and his eyes are saying that she's lost her mind. "This should be my choice—you're talking about _my_ mind here—"

"_Our_ mi—you know what? This isn't up for discussion—I don't know why I even tried to get through to you." Raven throws up her hands. Spinning on her heel, she stalks over to one of the many bookcases lining the walls and runs her fingers over the dusty, ancient tomes, searching for the text that will render the symbiotic relationship she's had with her leader for years into nothing.

"You can't be serious—you're gonna do it anyway?"

"Yes, I am," she replies, not bothering to turn around. She's found the book she needs, and its pages flutter as her fingers locate the right passage. "I wasn't even going to tell you, to be honest, but I figured you might appreciate it if I gave you a heads up—What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?"

Robin has swiped the book from her hands and before she can even utter a syllable, rips out a page. It is, naturally, the spell she needs to start the unbinding process, and before Raven can think to retrieve it, he has pulled out a lighter and the spell is now ash atop her burgundy carpet.

They scowl at each other for an eternity before Raven can find her voice.

"_Mature_. You do know that won't stop me?"

Robin pockets the lighter and his smirk is enough to warrant his murder. "It'll buy enough time."

Raven's hands flutter to her temples and she takes a deep, calming breath, because she is currently unable to look at her leader without wanting to fling him across the room. Or possibly out of the window. "Enough time for _what_?"

"Let's make a wager," says Robin, bypassing her question to stride over to the window and twitch her curtains to the side. Raven squints as the soft morning light spills into the room, but her leader has always been a little hard to look at.

He may be beautiful, but she is stubborn. "No."

"If we find the ingredients on this list before the new moon—"

"Which is in _three days_."

"You'll leave the bond alone and you'll actually _try_ to beat this—you won't stop fighting."

Raven sighs and sinks back into her bed. This whole ordeal is making her feel decades older, and she just wants to crawl under her sheets and wake up never. "I haven't stopped fighting."

"Oh? It sure seems that way to me." Robin turns to look down at her, and Raven hates the way he's able to look into her soul like that. "You were never one to give up without a fight, Rae," he says, but his voice is softer now. "What happened?"

Raven doesn't answer, choosing instead to bury her face in a pillow. She hasn't given up, but at the same time, there's a difference between surrender and having lost before the battle has even started.

Robin seems to sense that the conversation has ended, because he changes topic. Her bed creaks as he plops down to lie on his stomach beside her. "How far have you gotten with the list?"

"I have confirmed that it is total gibberish," Raven says dryly, and she is only half joking because Marcus's list is unlike any of the counter-spells Raven has ever read—just a jumble of seemingly unrelated and obscure objects. They are labeled odd things like 'silver tongue' and 'sprig of moonlight', and there are no directions on how these things must be combined or constructed.

"What did you think about this one?" Robin fidgets a bit as he tries to dig in his pocket for his copy of the list without sitting up. Fishing it out, he holds it up to the light and taps his finger on the first ingredient. "Panacea."

"I thought it was subtle."

Robin glares at her sideways.

"Okay, so it's a blanket term for things considered to be a 'cure-all'. But that's just it—a blanket term. It can be any number of things. Maybe Marcus is just messing with us."

"Maybe, but…it can also be another name of a drug. You remember that string of deaths that turned out to be OD's last year? Marcus did say it was a plant that would sooner 'poison you than cure you'."

"The Blue Rocket case…No. It cannot possibly be that simple," Raven says dubiously.

"This entire list reads like a riddle to me." Robin shifts so that he is facing her, and there is a fierce gleam in his eyes that sends Raven's stomach rolling ."What if…What if Marcus knew we were coming? That would mean—"

Raven lets out a string of profanity so colorful Robin blushes. She props herself on her elbows so that she can press the heels of her hands into her eyes. "He's _using_ us. This whole thing—_this whole thing—_was a ruse to get us the list! He knew you would figure it out and—and that we might actually have the means to get a cure. Fucking _hell_. You should have let me banish him, Robin."

There is a sudden darkness in her leader's eyes that makes lightning shoot to the base of Raven's spine, then up again. "I have something planned for Marcus, rest assured."

She wants to ask him what he is thinking of doing, but his hand is on her neck, his thumb stroking the fine hairs at her nape and all coherent thought leaves Raven's mind. Her head drops to her pillow and then _the most embarrassing sound comes out of her mouth. _

_"Nnggghhhhh…."_ she whines, and although she is humiliating herself, she cannot help but arch her neck into his hand because it just feels _so good. _

_"_Should I rub your belly next?" He says it seriously, but Raven can hear the laugh Robin is all but choking on.

"Sure, but afterward, I assure you that no one will find your body." She mumbles, but her threat holds no weight because her face is still pressed into her pillow and his fingers are now in her hair.

"We should be going. I know a detective in narcotics who owes me a favor…" he says, and Raven thinks she might be hallucinating, but there is a huskiness in his voice that had not been there before.

"R-right. Of course. Let's meet at the rendezvous point tonight?"

"Actually, I was sort of thinking of bringing Beast Boy along—"

_"What?"_

Robin is eyeing her oddly. "Raven, he can smell Blue Rocketeers from a mile off—"

"He can't know. _No one _can know—"

"We don't have to tell him. We can just say that we have a lead on someone who may be dealing and we need to find the source."

"He knows we're lying," Raven turns wide eyes on him and shakes her head. "Or at least that we're up to something. He said…he said he can smell Marcus on me, Robin. We can't take him."

Robin's hand slides from her neck to cup her cheek, but his face is stern. "You've gotta learn how to trust us, Raven. We're your teammates and your friends. We would never abandon you. Haven't we proven ourselves enough yet?"

_It's never that easy._ Raven turns away so that his hand drops to the bed. "I do trust you," she says quietly. "I don't trust myself."

Robin sighs audibly and rolls off of her bed. The next time she hears his voice, he is at her door. "I'll see you tonight, then."

Raven is silent for a full minute, and she is afraid he might have left already but she says it anyway. "Wait. Beast Boy…he can come—just don't tell him anything. I'll…I'll tell him when it's time."

"Be careful, Rae. He…cares about you. A lot. He'll want to hear this from your mouth—I'd hate to see what happens if he finds out on his own."

"I know, Robin," she whispers, but he has already gone, the _swoosh _of her doors signifying that she is once again alone in the gloom of her room. "I know."

* * *

><p>AN: Blue Rocket really is the name of a plant. A very special one. *winks* Look it up!~  
>I am, as always, in need of a pre-reader. One can never have too many. Inbox me if you're interested!<p>

I live on reviews you guys. I read each one and save them in my inbox, so don't think your thoughts have gone ignored. I seriously _love all of you._

-Ehbi

p.s. - follow me on tumblr! (username: ehbi)


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